


The Drachma Express

by sainnis



Series: Fellowes Mews [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prime Minister!Roy and Bodyguard!Ed are having a really good night, but nothing stops the party like foreign operatives.  This has sex and violence in it. In that order. But not at the same time. </p>
<p>This is the seventh story in the Fellowes Mews series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drachma Express

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyagosstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/gifts).



> This was written for and beta-ed by nyagosstar, because she likes her train fics with a side of danger and a splash of pr0n.

As he stood, the goblet of red wine Roy held aloft caught the light, sparkling beneath the chandeliers of the dining car. Those around the table followed suit, raising their glasses. “In honor of all of you,” he said, inclining his head. “I toast your skill, your intelligence, your loyalty, and most of all, your sense of humor. Without you, I can’t imagine how this would have turned out. Because of you, I think it’s safe to be cautiously optimistic that our relationship with Drachma isn’t going to be nearly as bad as it’s been in the past, and for that, I toast you.” Roy grinned, looking almost like a teenager who’d broken into the liquor cabinet. “To the best staff any Prime Minister could hope to have.” 

Ed turned his head to hide his smile. He knew Roy lived for these moments, and as they happened so rarely, it felt good just to stand beside him in the midst of one. He sipped his wine, shocked to discover that he actually liked it. Reds were generally far too bitter for him, and this one burst in sweetness on his tongue.

Not to be outdone, Hughes offered a toast to Roy, and that was swiftly followed by Ross’ toast for Hawkeye, who in turn lifted a glass to the King of Drachma, who hadn’t been nearly the bastard everyone said he was. Laughter rippled around the table, and Havoc cheered when the wait staff arrived with dessert. 

Having shed his topcoat after his toast, Roy loosened his tie and rolled the cuffs of his dress shirt, giving him the look of perhaps a news reporter rather than the Prime Minister of Amestris. Roy’s left ankle crossed over Ed’s right ankle under the table, and Ed blinked at him innocently. “We’re in a celebratory mood,” he said, bemused.

“I know,” Roy said. “I’m so used to panicked, defensive, and pissed that I’m not sure what to make of this.” 

A few seats away, Falman was using sleight of hand to make Breda’s maraschino cherry disappear, much to the delight of everyone around them. Hawkeye, though still buttoned up in her olive suit, had taken down her hair, and looked she was actually mildly interested in the discussion of Brosch and Ross’ upcoming wedding. Ed filed that information away for later. He and Al didn’t talk much about their relationships, but the idea of Al being married was more than a little strange to him. 

“We actually did it,” Roy said, his forearm pressing slightly against Ed’s. “Our strange little band managed to do what the Fuhrer’s army couldn’t. We reopened trade with Drachma. It’s a coup, Ed.”

Ed scoffed. “You did it. We just stood around and looked good.” 

“That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need my ego stroked.” Ed downed the rest of his glass of wine. He didn’t often drink for a variety of reasons, but tonight it seemed counterintuitive not to.

Roy leaned close, his lips nearly brushing Ed’s ear. “Maybe I can think of something else to stroke.”

Ed laughed, feeling his face warm from wine and conversation. “That was lame, even for you.”

“Really? You think?” Roy put down his dessert fork and slipped a hand under the table, casually running his hand up Ed’s thigh to his crotch. “What about that?”

Ed tried not to squirm, and stared up at the chandelier lights until his eyes burned. “That’s…a little…different.”

“Roy! Tell him that he’s crazy!” Hughes gestured with his glasses, pointing at a recent picture of Elysia. “Her eyes are not hazel. They’re absolutely green. Any fool can see that.”

Roy’s hands busied themselves with more mundane tasks as he served as referee for Hughes and Havoc, and Ed was able to breathe normally again. Rising to his feet, he crossed to the windows, watching as darkness spread over the Briggs mountain range. He pressed his automail hand against the glass, dimly aware of the chill. As his breath clouded the window, he stared at the changing landscape as they sped through the forest. Soon they’d be crossing over into Amestris, and although their visit in Drachma had been pleasant, he longed to be back in his homeland. It wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t kind, but it was his, and like a friend he loved to fight with, he looked forward to seeing it again.

**

Roy collapsed into an overstuffed chair in their private cabin, his cheeks flushed. “You don’t mind getting the bed?”

Ed touched Roy’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Nah. I got it.” The beds on the train converted to sofas during the day, and it only took Ed a moment to pull out the mattress. It wasn’t as big as their beds at the Manor, but it was certainly the most luxurious space he’d ever been in while traveling by rail. 

“You should just go to bed. You’re a little trashed.”

“I am not.” Roy fumbled with his slackened tie, laughing to himself. “I’m just a little happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Ed stood over him, deftly undoing what was left of the knot in Roy’s tie and slipping it from around his neck. He untucked Roy’s dress shirt and unfastened the buttons, kissing the exposed skin of his collarbone. This was the first chance in over a week they’d been able to be truly alone, and his fingers itched to roam over Roy. 

Roy unbuckled his belt, letting the black leather slither to the floor. “You should have had more wine. You deserve it.”

“You had enough for both of us.” Ed gently slipped Roy’s shirt off with one hand as the other skirted his chest to play with Roy’s dog tags, which dangled over his breastbone. The metal had warmed against Roy’s skin, and Ed ran his thumb over the raised letters of his lover’s name. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Roy tilted his head to the side, his hair falling across his left eye. “That’s funny. I was thinking you’d be sick of me by now.”

Moving forward, Ed slipped his knees alongside Roy in the chair, straddling his lap. “I see the Prime Minister every day. This isn’t the same thing.”

Roy’s fingers reached up to his throat to unbutton his collar, and what they lacked in dexterity they made up for in sincerity. “I see. You’re not my bodyguard tonight, then?”

Ed shivered involuntarily as Roy’s hand slid inside his shirt. “I got coverage,” he said, reaching out to cup the back of Roy’s head as he leaned in to kiss him. As their mouths met, Ed felt the tension of the week dissipate. The perfect heat of Roy’s mouth mingled with his scent made for a heady combination, and Ed had to break away first, his breath coming faster.

“Why are you still dressed?” Roy asked, a lazy grin on his face. Ed snatched another kiss as he roughly tugged off his shirt. As soon as the light hit his automail, Roy pulled him closer, sucking at the skin of Ed’s chest where flesh met metal as he fingered the bolt at Ed’s collarbone. 

Ed laughed, stroking the hair at the back of Roy’s neck. “Whenever I’m not around, you could always just make out with the toaster.” Roy nipped him, making Ed gasp a little.   
“I have an automail fetish, not an appliance fetish.” He ran a hand down the length of Ed’s arm. “But if you want to make me toast, that’s okay too.”

Ed’s left hand traced the edge of Roy’s jaw, feeling the rough texture of his stubble. “So you’re saying you wouldn’t want to fuck me if I wasn’t half metal?”

“No, I’d want to fuck you no matter what.” Roy slid his hand down the back of Ed’s pants, grabbing his ass. “You’re the only reason I have an automail fetish. It’s more like an Edward fetish.”

“Wow,” Ed said, a chuckle in his throat. “That’s almost poetic.”

“Shut up,” Roy growled, his words rumbling against Ed’s chest. “Shouldn’t you be naked by now?”

“I could be persuaded,” Ed said, giving Roy’s dog tags a tug towards the bed as he climbed to his feet.

Roy’s pants were off before he was out of the chair, and he laughed a little too loudly as he struggled a bit with his boxers on the way to the bed. 

“You’re drunk,” Ed said, a faint smile on his face as he stripped. 

“Almost,” Roy said, falling back across the bed, his hair spreading out behind him like a dark halo. “Just enough to let you do pretty much whatever you want to me.”

Ed crawled over the bed, straddling Roy’s hips. His hands found Roy’s wrists, and he pinned them against the mattress. “I thought that was all the time.”

A ripple of pleasure moved across Roy’s flesh as he sighed. “My mistake.” 

There were people—some of whom worked for Roy—who complained about the predictability of sleeping with the same person all the time. It got boring, they said. There were no surprises. Sex became monotony. 

Clearly, Ed thought, they weren’t having sex with Roy.

Also, he thought a moment after, if they were, I would have to kill them.

Ed sucked eagerly at Roy’s throat until he was rewarded with a quiet moan. “You think they can hear us,” he said, gripping Roy’s wrists tightly enough to feel the quick, hard beat of his pulse, “over the sound of the train?”

Roy lifted his head, the muscles cording in his neck. “You think I care?” His cock was already hard against Ed.

Ed leaned in, kissing him fast enough that their teeth clicked. He whispered in Roy’s ear, his warm breath raising gooseflesh on his lover’s skin. “Which hand?”

Shuddering pleasantly, Roy rocked his hips against Ed. “You pick.”

Reluctantly letting go of Roy’s wrists, he reached under his pillow, fumbling for a small bottle of lube, and exhaled with satisfaction as his fingers closed around it. 

Roy craned his neck to see what Ed was doing, and then laughed. “You should have been a Boy Scout.”

“Yeah,” Ed said, a lazy smile on his face as he made his automail hand slick with lube. “I’m a merit badge kind of guy.”

Roy’s body jerked as he slid a finger inside, and his eyelids fluttered for a moment as his breath caught in his throat. The flush across his face had spread down his neck, and Ed heard him gasp as he added a second finger. “Just,” he said, panting, “get in already.”

Ed started to withdraw his fingers, and then thrust them in again, even as he felt his own cock throb with anticipation. “Why? Are you that close already?” He ran his left index finger down Roy’s cock. 

“Ed, I swear,” Roy stopped speaking, biting his lip instead.

The muscles of Roy’s thighs twitched against him as Ed pulled his hand away, stroking it down his own length before pushing himself into Roy, sinking deeper, farther.

Roy’s legs were wrapped around him now, drawing him in. Their bodies moved together, synchronizing like gears, and Ed heard Roy’s breathing grow labored as he took his lover’s cock in hand. Thrusting his hips harder against Ed, Ed wondered distantly if there was a millimeter of space left between them. 

The tight heat of Roy’s body brought him to the edge, and he arched his back, gasping as he let himself fall, release working its way through his entire frame. Head tipping forward, Ed blinked, watching Roy watch him. As the blood pounding in his ears grew less shrill, he cupped his hand more firmly around Roy’s cock, sliding his fingers up and down until his lover writhed beneath him. “God,” Roy breathed, “just…right…” 

In moments, the hot rush of Roy’s cum splashed across his stomach, and Ed inhaled, awash in the scent of him. 

After disengaging himself, Ed stretched out luxuriantly next to Roy, not caring that he was making a mess of the duvet. “We,” he said, sliding his automail hand up Roy’s torso, “should take more train trips.”

Ed felt Roy’s ribs move as he chuckled. “You don’t like screwing around in the backseat of the Roadster?”

He leaned across Roy to kiss his mouth, tasting the salt of Roy’s sweat on his upper lip. Roy broke away to take a long, exultant breath, and Ed pressed his lips against the side of Roy’s throat, feeling the blood pounding beneath the skin. He loved lying next to Roy like this, when he was sated and happy and so damn gorgeous. 

Roy’s hand reached for him, stroking pieces of hair across Ed’s forehead. “How long has it been?”

“You think I’m keeping track?”

“I know you are.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “You’ve been really busy.”

Roy nestled his head beneath Ed’s. “I suck.”

“No, you don’t. Except when you do, and I have no problem with that.”

“You shouldn’t have to jerk off every morning in lieu of sex.”

“I jerk off every morning anyway.”

“Ed, I’m serious. I’m trying to apologize.”

Ed sighed, letting Roy stroke the scarred skin around his automail. “And I’m saying you don’t need to.”

“I don’t want you to—“

“Roy,” Ed said, pressing a finger to Roy’s mouth. “It’s okay. I know what this is. And I get it. And it won’t always be like this.” 

Guilt lingered in Roy’s eyes as he stared at him. “Being with you…it pulls me back. You make me forget and help me remember at the same time. I’m just saying that I need this. I need you.”

Ed exhaled, a joke on his lips, but he decided against it. “That’s nice to hear.”

Roy started to curl up against him, but Ed shifted him carefully. “Don’t fall asleep yet. One second.” He extricated himself from Roy’s arms, and climbed off the bed, returning a few moments later with a towel. He cleaned them both off gently, and then pulled the duvet out from underneath Roy’s sprawled form.

“You’re so nice,” Roy said dreamily, reaching for Ed as he picked his way across the bed, spreading a fresh blanket over them both. 

“Just don’t let anyone else know,” Ed said, listening to Roy’s breathing as it slowed and deepened, and letting the sound carry him into the dark.

**

Ed woke gasping, his head pounding. Disoriented, it took him several moments to remember where he was. Roy lay sprawled beside him, his hair falling across his eyes, his limbs pale in the darkness. Ed pressed his automail hand to his forehead; God, he felt like shit. If just a glass of wine made him feel this crappy, Ed thought, then Roy’s never going to want to wake up.

Fumbling on the floor to find his pajama pants, he finally discovered them balled up between the bed and the lamp. It seemed a lot colder in the room now that the adrenaline was gone. He got up and crossed the small chamber to the single window, pushing aside the curtain. It wasn’t yet dawn, but between the moonlight and the scattering of electric lights along the way, he stared at the landscape as it slid by. He found it hard to believe, but it seemed like they were moving faster than they had been previously. The train started to go around a tight curve, and Ed craned his neck to watch the tail end of the train come into sight. 

Except it never did. 

Ed pressed a palm against the glass, willing himself to see more clearly. At this kind of angle, on this kind of curve, given the number of cars on the train, he knew beyond any doubt he should be able to see the last cars. 

He turned from the window, crawling across the bed to shake Roy’s shoulder. 

He said his name quiet at first, and then slightly louder, but Roy didn’t stir. Sighing, Ed slipped a hand beneath the blankets and dug his index finger into Roy’s ribs. 

“Mustang, get up!”

Roy came to with a groan, pushing Ed away with a surprising amount of strength for someone who’d been asleep just seconds before. 

Scowling, Roy muttered, “What the fuck…”

Ed pressed a finger to Roy’s lips, leaning over him to speak quietly in his ear.

“Something’s wrong with the train.”

Roy winced, pressing his fingertips against his skull. “Not so loud. My head’s going to split in two.”

“Did you hear what I said? We’re in trouble.”

Ed started to speak, but his words were drowned out by the sound of gunfire coming from the corridor. 

“Fuck.” Ed clapped his hands, transmuting his automail into a blade. He crossed to the door, opening it slightly. Their guards lay sprawled in front of the doorway, a single bullet hole in each of their foreheads. More shots came ringing down the hallway, and Ed jumped back, slamming the door.

“Shit.” Ed turned to find that Roy still lay on the bed, clutching his head. “Roy. Get up. Get your gloves. Where’s your gun?”

Roy pushed himself up clumsily, swearing as he steadied himself by placing a hand on the wall. 

Taking a quick breath, Ed found Roy’s jacket and pants, and threw them on the bed. “Gloves. Gun. Now.”

Ed stared at the door, heart pounding. It was going to be kicked in or shot through any moment, and he had no idea what was on the other side. There was no way to know how many of their own people were already dead. 

Focus, Ed thought, flexing the fingers of his flesh hand. Roy is all. Roy is everything. He is the only one that matters.

“They’re not fucking in here!” Roy snapped, and Ed heard the sound of tearing fabric as he tore his pockets open. “My goddamn gloves and gun are gone!” 

“Then get down!” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Roy was actually doing as he was told. His movements were clumsy and awkward, two things that Roy Mustang rarely was. 

A succession of gunshots made his ears ring, and Ed transmuted part of the floor to barricade the door. His hopes that the stopgap would slow them down were short-lived, however, when he heard the crack of splintering wood as those outside started cutting their way through. He glanced around the room, desperate for some other kind of cover, but the tight space left them little in the way of protection. Stepping back a few paces, he propped up the mattress as a shield, gesturing at Roy to get behind it. 

Roy was on the ground, drawing with a thin bit of charcoal. He had gotten into the habit of sewing a piece into the lining of his coats in the military, and much to the chagrin of their laundry staff, often still did. “When I tell you to get out of the way--”

His words were cut off by another series of blasting bullets, and the barricade Ed had created fell to pieces. He tried to transmute a replacement, but the floor was too thin, and the second barricade only came up to his knees.

There were four people in the doorway, each pointing guns at Ed. The frontrunner was female, and she took a step into the room. “Mustang. You’re not actually hiding in here, are you?”

Ed heard Roy scoff from behind the mattress. “Alchemists don’t have to hide. If you take a step closer, though, it’ll be easier for me to blow you up.”

The woman flicked on the lights, and smirked at Ed’s attire. “Does he fuck all his bodyguards, or did he have you specially made?”

Ed narrowed his gaze, tensing as he gestured sharply with his blade. “He may set you on fire, but that’ll feel like nothing compared to what I’m going to do.”

She smirked, gesturing with her pistol. “Mustang, stand up.”

Roy said nothing, but Ed could almost have sworn he smelled smoke. 

The woman shrugged, stepping back to move behind her companions, nodding at them as she did so. “Fine.” 

Ed was fast enough to dodge the first shot, and his automail deflected the second. The third, though, caught him on the left side of his chest, and the force of the bullet was enough to send him sprawling to the ground. As he hit the floor, he heard Roy shout his name, followed swiftly by a sharp slap behind him, and smelled the sickening stench of charred flesh. 

Ed turned his head, trying to see Roy, but instead found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. 

“Come out, Mustang.”

The woman, somehow untouched by Roy’s fire, kept her gun pressed to Ed’s forehead as Roy crawled out, his hands black with charcoal.

The cold pressure of the barrel left Ed’s skin, and she shook her head at him. “No need to waste another bullet when one’s already done the job.” 

She pointed the gun at Roy now, and pulled a set of handcuffs from her belt, binding Roy’s hands behind his back. 

“It’s just you now, Mustang. There’s nowhere for you to go. Too bad you didn’t have your gloves, or I might have had something to worry about.” She turned away to exit the room, walking through the ashes of her former companions, and locked the door behind her. 

Ed pressed his hand against the wound, feeling the warmth of his own blood seeping beneath his fingers. A strangled gasp swirled for a moment in his throat as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Ed!” Roy sank to his knees beside him, struggling against his bonds. 

“Turn…around,” he said, weakly lifting his automail blade. He sliced through the chains joining the cuffs, freeing Roy’s arms. 

Roy gently pulled away Ed’s fingers to see the damage. “Let me see,” Roy said softly, and Ed swore as Roy lifted his shoulder to inspect his back. “Fuck. It didn’t go through.” Ed lay back as Roy pulled down one of the blankets from the bed to press against the wound. “Try not to move, okay?” 

Ed kept his breathing shallow, trying to keep the worst of the pain at bay. “God, it hurts,” Ed said, fighting back the urge to cry out. Every breath made his muscles scream in protest, and the pressure of Roy’s hands against the wound was almost enough to make him pass out. 

“Just try to stay calm.”

Tipping his head up, Ed closed his eyes as he let out a low moan. “Hurts to breathe.”

“It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” Roy repeated the phrase another time, his own breathing harsh in Ed’s ears.

“It must have,” Ed said, drawing another small breath to have the air to speak. “hit my lung. You can’t fix this.”

Roy shook his head. “What would Al do?”

Ed blinked, trying to focus on the sensation of Roy’s fingers instead of the pain they were causing. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t say that. I know you. You’ve read half his books. You talk about everything. You’re a fucking genius. He must have told you something, something I can do.” Roy wiped a hand across his own forehead, smearing a line of Ed’s blood over his eyebrow. “Come on. Think.”

“Dammit,” Ed wheezed, aware he was breathing faster. “There’s air in there,” he gasped, “or blood. Or both. I don’t know.” Bringing his automail together with his hand, he changed the blade back to its normal form. “Find something metal.” He gasped, shaking his head. “Sorry. Two things.”

Roy left his side to dig through his belongings, returning with an expensive pen from his jacket pocket and a pair of tweezers. Ed nodded and clapped his hands again, turning the pen into a scalpel. 

The color drained from Roy’s face. “Fuck, Ed—“

“Shut up.” Ed clapped again, using alchemy to change the tweezers into a thin, hollow tube.

“This probably won’t work,” Ed said, exhaling as he spoke. He was getting lightheaded; he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. “But you can try.”

Roy picked up both objects, swallowing hard. “What do I have to do?”

Ed moved his hand weakly, counting his ribs, and felt his whole body shudder with the effort it took just to draw breath. “Sixth one. Or seventh. Can’t remember. Pick one.” Forcing himself to stay conscious, he stared at Roy, holding his gaze. “Make a hole between the ribs with that,” he panted, pointing at the scalpel, “then stick the tube in. Not too far.”

“Are you absolutely fucking sure?”

Ed nodded, his wheezing breaths drowning out the breakneck drumming of his pulse. “Roy,” he said, “I’m so sorry—“

“You don’t get to be sorry.” Roy’s voice was hard, and for a moment he sounded like a Colonel again. He pulled the blankets away, his fingers touching Ed’s chest. “Stay still, and for fuck’s sake, don’t pass out.”

Ed knew it was going to hurt. He wasn’t afraid of pain, really. Pain was simply something to be endured. Sometimes it was quick, sometimes it lingered, and sometimes it never really went away, but he had been through enough of it over the past two decades to know how to deal with it. He was afraid, however, of how Roy looked in that moment, and of what Roy would become if he didn’t survive. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, or how much Ed wanted to die; the practical truth was he simply couldn’t. 

When the pain started, he was able to rationalize it for about the first five seconds before he drew in a breath to scream, but darkness swallowed him without giving him a chance to make a sound.

**

Roy liked it much better when things made sense. 

If you saw a building was on fire, you got a hose, and you sprayed it with water until the fire died out. What you didn’t do was set another fire in another part of the house and hope for the best. Which is pretty much how he felt about what he’d just done, except setting a fire generally didn’t get blood all over his hands and make him puke. 

There had been a number of important questions that would have been nice to ask a medical professional in that moment, including but not exclusive to: How far are you supposed to stick something in someone’s chest anyhow? Is a popping sound considered a positive sign, or was that indicative of the fact you’ve just killed your lover? Also, are you absolutely fucking sure this is a good idea? 

Roy still tasted bile in his throat, and his hands were sticky with Ed’s blood, but strangely enough, Ed was still breathing. He was still bleeding from the gunshot, and now from the hole Roy had made for the tube, but miraculously, he was breathing easier than he had been moments before. The trouble was, if anything, this was a stopgap, and Roy had no idea how long Ed could last like this. 

He stared down at Ed, watching his chest move as he breathed, and he wondered exactly how much abuse one person’s body could take before it just refused to knit itself back together one more time. He’d been through his share of bad injuries, as had most of his military friends. Wartime left scars on everyone. But Ed, God, his beautiful Ed, was being offered up like a fucking sacrifice yet again, bleeding so Roy wouldn’t have to. It was sick that he asked him to do this, and sicker still that Ed refused to have anyone else serve in his place. Except tonight, he had. He’d handed off his post for just a few hours, and now at least two of his men were dead, and Ed would blame himself.

Ed groaned, and Roy reached out, gripping his flesh hand tightly, grimacing at the feel of Ed’s own blood mingling between their fingers. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“You didn’t fuck it up,” Ed said, his eyes open just enough for Roy to see a thin slit of gold. 

“Do you feel any better?” Roy said, pressing Ed’s hand to his cheek, feeling the muscles of Ed’s fingers flex.

“It hurts like hell,” Ed said slowly, “but at least I can breathe. Was I out long?”

“Not very.” Roy exhaled, and realized that there was a possibility if they didn’t figure out what to do that this might well be the last conversation they ever had together. “Ed, I need to make sure you understand something.”

A strange, labored laugh came out of Ed. “Don’t you even fucking start. I swear I can see the wheels turning in your head. I know you love me.” He waited until he had enough breath to continue speaking. “Quit writing the script for my dying moments and figure out how to save us, damn it.”

“I just—“

“No.” Ed’s eyes opened wider, his dilated pupils giving his gaze an intense, harrowing quality. “What’s the plan? You always have a plan.”

Roy grunted, shaking his head. “We can’t fight them. There’s no telling how many of them there are. They took all our weapons.”

“Not true.” Ed lifted his automail slightly. “I can still transmute.”

“No. You can’t afford to. You don’t have enough strength.” Roy dropped his hand on Ed’s arm. “Please.”

“Then blow out the wall.” Ed jerked his chin in the direction of the windows. “There’s enough blood in here to make the array.”

“And do what? Jump from a moving train? You’d never survive the fall. Neither would I, most likely.” Roy’s head ached fiercely, and he pressed his free hand to his temple. He wasn’t the sort of person who waited around to be rescued, but the more he tried to find a way out of the situation, the more it became clear they were trapped. Worse, the ringleader clearly wanted Ed dead, and believed him to be so already. If she returned and found him alive, he knew she’d kill him. 

Ed’s left hand inched across the floor to pick up the bloody scalpel, moving it closer. “You need a weapon.”

Before Roy could react, Ed had brought his hands together, and a thin-handled stiletto lay on the floor where the scalpel had been. “That’s,” Ed said, breathing hard, “better than nothing.”

“Fuck, Ed,” Roy said sharply, but the scraping sound of someone trying to open the door stilled his tongue. He met Ed’s eyes for a brief moment, and then flipped the edge of the bloodstained blanket over Ed’s face, covering him. Concealing the dagger, Roy moved to sit in front of Ed’s body.

The door opened, and his captor appeared, a smile on her face. “So this is what the great Mustang looks like without the fawning crowds and snot-nosed servants.” Her gun was trained on him. “You should have asked me to put a bullet in the kid’s brain. It’s a shitty way to go.”

“It was his job to die for me.”

“He didn’t have to drown in his own blood.”

Roy glared at her, his muscles tensing. “Either shoot me or put your fucking gun away.”

“You’re not the least bit intimidating. I can’t fathom why those military brats listened to you.” She relaxed her hold on the gun slightly, and Roy handicapped the odds of how many shots she could get off before he buried the dagger in her throat. Instead, she stepped closer, cocking the trigger. “Take off your shirt.”

When Roy didn’t answer, she took another step, pressing the gun under his chin. “Now.”

Roy exhaled, undoing the buttons of his pajama top, and the dagger fell to the floor with a dull thunk.

“So resourceful, you alchemists.” She picked up the stiletto. “I tried to learn alchemy once, but I’m not such a good artist. I never could draw the arrays properly. With you being so good at it, perhaps you can instruct me.” She leaned over him, and he could smell her breath, strangely sweet. “Don’t move.” 

The pain was sharp at first and then rose in intensity, spreading across his abdomen as she drew the knife across his skin. Roy’s breath hissed between his teeth, and he clenched his fists beside him. He’d be shot, certainly, at this range, but with any luck, he’d be able to strike hard enough and fast enough to retrieve her gun. As he prepared to move, a gunshot rang in his ears, and hot blood spattered his face and chest.

She slumped forward, landing on his chest, and Roy shoved her away, shocked to see the bullet hole in her forehead. As his captor tumbled to the ground, he saw a trail of smoke rising from the doorway.

“Sir!”

“Hawkeye?”

She stepped into the room, dirt and blood smeared across her face. “You’re bleeding. Are you all right? Where’s Ed?” Her gaze fell on the shrouded figure lying behind Roy, and she put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

Roy pulled the blanket back, relieved when Ed’s eyelids fluttered open again. “He’s still alive. He’s been shot. We have to get him to a hospital. Where are we?”

Crossing the room to inspect Ed’s injuries, Hawkeye winced as she saw Roy’s attempt at medical intervention. “Ed, can you hear me?”

“I didn’t get fucking shot in the ear, Hawkeye.”

“We’re an hour outside of Central. Do you think you can hold on?”

Ed closed his eyes, his skin pale. “Do I have a choice?”

Roy turned away from Ed to look at her, his voice quiet. “How many of them are left?”

Hawkeye rose to her feet. “None, sir.”

“You killed them all?”

“I tried to keep one alive for questioning, but he bled to death, sir. They were sent from Drachma, hired by the king. The conductor has us back on course for Central, and has radioed for help to pick up the cars with everyone else.” 

“Thank you,” he said, reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder for a moment. 

“There’s a phone up front. Call Al. Find out if Ed can wait or if we need to divert to another hospital elsewhere.”

“I can wait,” Ed protested weakly. “You’re going to make him freak out.”

Roy knelt down beside him, kissing his cheek. “Hawkeye will stay with you. I’ll be right back.”

After making his way down the short corridor to the telephone, Roy picking up the receiver, slowly dialing Al’s number. 

Al answered cheerfully, but as soon as Roy identified himself, Al’s pitch dropped. “What’s wrong with Ed?”

“He’s been shot. He’s still conscious, but—“

“I’ll be at the hospital in ten minutes. Five. I—“

“Al! We’re still on the train.”

“He got shot on the freaking train? Where are you?”

“An hour from Central.” Roy described the location of Ed’s injuries, and explained what he’d done to try to help.

Al made a horrified gasping noise. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Ed said it was what you’d do.”

“I don’t sign Amestris treaties, Roy! Do you know why? Because I’m not the freaking Prime Minister! You know what you shouldn’t be doing? Putting chest tubes in people! For the love of--”

“Stop screaming at me and tell us what to do. Can he make it to Central or not?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “Central has the best surgeons. He should be able to make it, given what you did. Keep him warm and keep him talking. I’ll meet you at the station with the ambulance.”

Roy took a deep breath. “Al, I’m really sorry,” he said, but the line was already dead. 

**

Everything was all wrong. He was lying down, but the bed was terribly uncomfortable, and Ed couldn’t smell Roy. He opened his eyes, squinting beneath the bright lights. A figure sat beside him, and he reached out his hand. “Roy…”

“Not quite, brother.” another voice said. 

Ed blinked. “Al. Where are we? Where’s Roy?”

“We’re in Central Hospital. Roy’s getting a few stitches. He’ll be here soon.”

“Stitches?”

Al rose to his feet. “He’s fine. I promise.”

Ed exhaled, surprised when it didn’t hurt. “God, am I glad to see you.” His little brother looked tired and not a little annoyed, but he smiled at Ed regardless. 

Al leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Ed’s for a moment as they had when they were small. “I hear the military is working on a prototype for a bulletproof vest. What are the odds you could get your hands on one? Or maybe twenty?”

“I’ll see what I can do about that.”

Al took Ed’s pulse and peered into his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess.” Ed touched his chest, feeling the bandages swathed over his injuries. “Did they get the bullet out?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you. You bled like crazy.” Al pointed to his own arm where a square of gauze was taped inside his elbow. “Apparently we need to set up a blood bank for you or something. You got another pint from me, not to mention who knows how much of my sanity.” He checked over Ed’s bandages, looking satisfied. “You’re looking pretty good, though. I think you’ll get discharged in the next couple days.”

“Is everyone else all right? Is Hawkeye--”

“She’s fine. Just a few cuts and bruises. Everyone else made it home safely.”

Ed nodded, relieved. “We got lucky.”

“Oh yeah. We’re lucky.” Al turned away, pressing his palms against his face. “You know there are countries where people aren’t constantly trying to kill their leaders?”

“These people weren’t from Amestris, Al. They were foreign operatives.”

“As if that makes it any better.”

“I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry that I’m the reason why.”

Al looked away from him. “I’m not angry with you.”

“Don’t be angry. That’s my job.” Ed gave him a rueful smile. “Come on. I promise next time I get hurt, it won’t be a gunshot, okay?”

“That’s not funny.”

“Well, at least I won’t be on a train. How about that?”

“Still not funny.”

“I promise to be more careful?”

Al sighed, shaking his head at him. “You promised that last time.”

“I’m kind of liar sometimes, Al.” He reached out his left hand.

His brother took it. “Yeah, I know.”

**

“I still can’t believe that bitch cut you.”

“Don’t touch it!”

Ed stopped poking his finger into Roy’s stomach, which was healing well, much to Ed’s happiness. She hadn’t cut too deeply, thankfully, and Al said it shouldn’t scar. “Drawing arrays on people with knives. That’s nice. She and Kimblee would have gotten along great.”

Roy drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he ran his hand along Ed’s body gently, skipping the tender spots on his chest and side. “Do you need anything for pain before we go to bed?”

“That shit makes me all loopy.”

“No kidding. Last night you asked me to do your math homework, and then you proceeded to grab my ass in a very halfhearted way before you fell asleep. It was weird and not a little disappointing.”

Ed rested his head against Roy’s shoulder, sprawling across the bed diagonally. “Next time I molest you, it will be more enjoyable for you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“How about both?” Ed turned on his side, and then groaned as he came to rest on his back again. “And how about you get me a glass of water and one of those delicious crazy pills?”

Ed kind of hated how they made him feel, but at the moment, they were the only way he was getting through the night. At the very least, he’d be mildly entertaining for a bit.

Roy dutifully brought him his request, and Ed downed the pill. “Well, any coherent conversations you want to have with me need to happen in the next ten or fifteen minutes, because after that, I can’t really be held responsible for anything I say or do.”

A soft kiss landed on his cheek, followed by his jaw. “I’m just so glad to have you home. I hate sleeping by myself.”

Ed laughed. “You prefer the random automail kicks and flails?”

“I bear the bruises proudly.” Roy gathered him into his arms gently, and Ed let him, feeling the tension in Roy’s body dissipate as their bodies drew closer together. 

“You could have done anything,” Roy said, so softly Ed almost couldn’t hear him.

“What?”

“You could have been anything, Ed. You know that, don’t you? You’re brilliant.” Roy’s fingers stroked his forehead. “You could be a professor. A scientist. A doctor. Anything. Anything in this life you want to do, it’s yours for the taking.”

“Are you suggesting I’m wasting myself on you?”

Roy sighed. “No. I’m saying you’re a fucking genius, and I don’t know why sometimes you put your beautiful brilliant self in front of guns to save me, when it makes such better sense for it to be the other way around.”

Ed patted Roy’s head. “It would be far too difficult for me to explain to your feeble brain, so just trust that this genius knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“If I can do anything I want, then let me. I want to protect you. I want to be with you. Don’t make it more complicated than that.”

“It is.”

“No fucking kidding.”

Roy kissed him again, finding any available patch of skin. “We have a long way to go. And now our peace treaty with Drachma is kind of null and void. And there’s a ton of other shit about to fall on our heads.”

“Yeah, well, let it. It’s kind of what we do.” Ed pushed himself closer against Roy. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“It’s going to take more than that.”

“Fine. We’ll start figuring it out tomorrow.”

Roy’s hands soothed away the last of his aches as the painkiller started to work its magic. “I guess that’s as close to a plan as we’re going to get for now.”

Ed waved a hand at him. “Enough talking. Drugged people are trying to sleep.”

Roy was quiet for a minute, and then said softly, “Ed?”

“What?”

“Love you.”

Ed snorted. “Well, obviously.”


End file.
